


by the blood of my hand

by dicaeopolis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Relationship Study, Sparring, title from Natural by Imagine Dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/pseuds/dicaeopolis
Summary: Noctis is nothing like the king Gladio wanted to serve, and everything.





	by the blood of my hand

Noct isn’t trying.

They’re overdue for a conflict, as much as Gladio hates every second of these arguments. Sparring provides a handy reason to make their fights physical, which kind of helps, but also kind of gives them an excuse for practice-beating the shit out of each other to turn into actually beating the shit out of each other. And Noct doesn’t say anything when he’s mad at Gladio, just presses his lips together and stops putting force behind his strikes and phases through attacks instead of blocking or retaliating like he  _ needs _ to know how to do, and - Gladio grinds his teeth together and charges at Noct again, wishing his practice sword was heavier.

Noct shimmers through Gladio’s first strike, but doesn’t turn quickly enough to dodge the whirling follow-up. The wooden tip of the sword slashes across Noct’s shoulders, harder than it should during a spar. Noct stumbles forward - Gladio pushes his advantage, sword cracking against Noct’s - and then he sweeps Noct’s legs out from beneath him with one swift stroke, dropping him neatly.

“You’re too  _ slow,” _ Gladio growls, standing back and letting Noct up with hardly a pause. “Are you even paying attention?”

Gladio has known since he was born that, one day, he would die to protect Noct. No Shield ever outlives their king. And he’s put himself together like a machine to ensure that he can hold off that day as long as possible. Every push in training, every connection he’s built within the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive, every minute and every hour and year, the  _ decades _ he’s devoted to making himself strong for Noctis. He taught his baby  _ sister  _ how to hold a power shield when it was still taller than her, because, after all, if he’s doing his job right he’ll die before Noct ever comes close, and, after all, Iris is the next Amicitia.

Not that Noct would give a shit if Gladio told him about any of that. No, Noct doesn’t even fucking  _ respond _ as he slowly pulls himself up. He won’t even meet Gladio’s eyes, just pushes his bangs out of his eyes and glares off to the side.

“Where were you during training this morning? Cor said you didn’t show.” Gladio doesn’t wait for an answer. He knows, from Ignis, that Prompto had stayed over at Noct’s, and they’d probably played Smash til two in the morning and then woken up curled up stiff and tangled together on Noct’s sofa like the kids they _weren’t_ _anymore._ But it’s still infuriating, after Noct had put up a pretty good showing so far this week, good enough that Gladio had started to actually hope Noct might be growing up enough to take this seriously. God knows _Gladio_ never had _slumber parties._ “Again.” Noct doesn’t move. _“Again!”_

Noct flinches, but raises his sword, movements dragging with resistance. They circle each other for a moment, Gladio practically chasing Noct around it.

There was a week or so, after Gladio first met Prompto, where he thought the new friend might be to blame for Noct’s infuriating contrariness. Prompto seemed like an airhead, honestly. Not into much besides video games and girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day, couldn’t get out a full sentence to Gladio without stuttering. Always dragging Noct to the arcade, always begging him for tutoring in this or that or whatever.

But then Gladio checked a little closer and realized that Prompto is the guy he’s seen running for miles and miles through the citadel every morning since he was in middle school, and who holds most of the records for speed and accuracy at the Crownsguard shooting range where he hangs out when Noct is sparring, and whose grades were actually quite good but whose pleas for tutoring always seemed to be in the subjects Noct wasn’t doing very well in himself, and yeah, no, the problem was Noct.

He drops Noct again fairly quickly. And the next time, and after that. Noct is barely back on his feet again when Gladio growls  _ “one more” _ and charges again.

Noct phases through his strike, swaying only slightly. And when he fades back into color, he’s glaring up at Gladio, eyes set in defiance and lips twisted into a pout. “No,” he spits out, the first thing he’s said since he walked into the training hall and saw Gladio with arms crossed. “I’m done.”

He looks like a petulant little  _ kid. _ “You look like a petulant little  _ kid,” _ Gladio snarls, not one to hold back.

“I  _ am  _ a kid,” Noct snaps back.

“You don’t  _ have  _ that freedom, there are people counting on you-” There’s  _ me, _ he doesn’t say-

Noct’s eyes flash with fury - and then he hefts his mock weapon like a javelin and hurls it upwards, spinning past Gladio’s ear with a  _ snickkkkk. _ There’s a  _ swish  _ of bright blue and Noct is gone from his grip - Gladio whirls around, scanning the training hall for the prince hanging from the sword-

The air between the two of them bends and bunches, crackling blue, and Noct smashes into Gladio’s back with double, triple force. Gladio staggers, and then falls to his knees, wavering.  _ “Haah-” _

One arm wraps around his neck. Noct clings to his back like a koala for a moment, and then the weight of muscle and the momentum of the strike knocks Gladio the rest of the way down. Gladio hits the mat - when the hell did Noct get so  _ strong- _

There’s a knee digging into the small of his back, and Noct’s hand is hard and unyielding under his jaw, pulling his head back. Gladio’s throat pulses against Noct’s palm.

Shock and adrenaline shudder down Gladio’s shoulders, involuntary.

“Is this what you want, then?” Noct breathes, low and rough and furious. He pulls Gladio’s chin further, bending his neck uncomfortably. Beneath him, the mat smells of plastic sweat; above him, Noct is harsh and unyielding and Gladio  _ can’t move. _

_ “Yes,”  _ Gladio rasps out. He  _ needs  _ it, needs that fierce exultation of Noct proving himself - needs the wrath and force of the Lucian kings holding him in place - he’s always  _ known _ he needs it, but Noct’s lean body on top of him is so warm and young and human and  _ nothing  _ like the icy blue burn of the magic in his veins-

“Then, if you want to follow me, follow  _ me.” _ Fingers push into Gladio’s hair and grip, yanking his head back hard. “Is your allegiance to me? Or just yourself?”

“I’d  _ die  _ for you,” Gladio gasps, frustration pulsing hot through his skin. “Does that mean nothing?”

“Live for me,” Noct hisses against his ear. Like a command - like an  _ order, _ like a king, like someone Gladio would follow to hell-

Like someone Gladio would follow to heaven.

He slaps the mat twice. There’s a fraction of a moment, and then Noct’s grasp on his throat loosens, and the weight eases from his back. Gladio staggers up to one knee, and then pauses there, blood still thrumming in his wrists and his throat. His vision’s a little blurry, but he can see Noct’s boots on the mat in front of him.

When Gladio manages to raise his eyes, Noct is looking down at him like a young god. He extends one hand, slim and deadly.

“Anywhere,” Gladio says, hoarse, and grasps Noct’s hand with both his. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Then you are mine,” says Gladio’s king, and lifts him to his side.

**Author's Note:**

> (noct got called the "people's king" somewhere or another and that means a lot to me)
> 
> i am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dickaeopolis) and [tumblr](http://dicaeopolis.tumblr.com)!


End file.
